Taken Read Online Free

her apartment and introduce you.”
    “Sorry, Ms. Morales. I’d rather go alone.”
    Her eyes grew dark and hard.
    “You might be the World’s Greatest Detective, but I’m the World’s Greatest Mother. Don’t forget your swag.”
    She walked out without waiting.

2.
    Loyola Marymount University was a Jesuit university with a tough academic reputation. Krista had a full-ride scholarship for all four years that covered her share of a two-bedroom apartment only seven blocks from the campus, which was as far from downtown L.A. as possible and still on land—a mile and a half from the beach at the edge of Marina del Rey.
    The World’s Greatest Mother and I took separate cars, picked up the I-10, and caravanned west across the city. Nita had phoned Krista’s roommate from her car, so Mary Sue Osborne returned home early from class and was waiting when we arrived.
    Mary Sue was pale and round, with a spray of freckles, blue eyes, and small, wire-framed glasses. She wore a blue top, tan cargo shorts, and flip-flops, and her light brown hair was braided.
    She peered at me over the spectacles when she let us in.
    “Hey.”
    “Hey back.”
    “Are you really the World’s Greatest Detective?”
    “That was a joke.”
    Nita had filled her in on the drive. Krista and Mary Sue had been roommates for two years, and had worked together on the student paper for four. This was obvious as soon as we entered. Long neat rows of front pages from the weekly student newspaper were push-pinned to the walls, along with a movie poster from
All the President’s Men
.
    I made a big deal out of their wall.
    “Man, this is amazing. Is this your paper?”
    “I’m the managing editor. Kris is editor in chief. The capo-di-tutti-capi.”
    This was called building rapport, but Nita steamrolled over the moment.
    “He doesn’t have time for this, Mary. Have you heard from her?”
    “No, ma’am. Not yet.”
    “Tell him about that boy.”
    Mary Sue made a kind of fish-eyed shrug at me.
    “What do you want to know?”
    Nita said, “Did that boy convince Krista to marry him? Is he mixed up in some kind of crime?”
    I cleared my throat.
    “Remember when I said I’d rather come alone?”
    “Yes.”
    “This is why. Maybe Mary Sue and I should talk in Krista’s room. Alone.”
    Nita Morales fixed me with a glare as if she had second thoughts about me being the World’s Greatest Detective, but she abruptly went to the kitchen.
    “I’ll be out here if you need me. Texting Kris, and praying she answers.”
    I lowered my voice as I followed Mary Sue through a short hall to Krista’s room.
    “She doesn’t like him.”
    “No shit, Sherlock.”
    Krista’s bedroom was small, but well furnished with a single bed, a chest of drawers, and a well-worn George R.R. Martin paperback faceup on her pillow. An L-shaped desk arranged with a computer, printer, jars of pens and pencils, and neat stacks of printouts filled the opposite corner. Large foam-boards on the walls above her desk were push-pinned with pictures of her friends.
    Mary Sue saw me clocking the pictures.
    “The Wall of Infamy. That’s what we call it. This is me.”
    She pointed at a picture of herself wearing an enormous floppy hat.
    “Is Berman here?”
    “Sure. Right here—”
    She pointed out a close shot of a young man with short dark hair, thin face, and gray T-shirt. He stood with his hands in his back pockets, staring at the camera as if he didn’t like having his picture taken. All in all, Berman was in six pictures. In one of the shots, he was leaning against the rear of a silver, late-model Mustang. The license plate was blurry, but readable—6KNX421. When Mary Sue confirmed this was Berman’s car, I copied the plate, then took the close shot of Berman from the board.
    “I’m going to borrow this.”
    “I’ll blame Nita. Take what you want.”
    “You think Nita is right?”
    “About what?”
    “Marriage.”
    “No way. They’re definitely into each other, but